Opening the Lid
by LoverFaery
Summary: My take on Yuki's childhood years in the main house. Features all sorts of juicy stuff like why he stopped talking, the dark room, his relationship with Akito, and why he moved in with Shigure. Rated for mature elements like torture and depression.


Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters used here for my dastardly purposes. If I owned Fruits Basket, I'd way have better things to do than write fanfic about it.

Author's Note: I don't know what possessed me to write this. Feel free not to like it. It's a little more intense than anything I like to read, and I don't mind intense. It's also about twice as long as my other one-shot ficlets. Go figure. I get bitten by the writing bug unintentionally, and it just keeps going. Maybe it had to do with my uber!tough week.

**Opening the Lid**

I still don't like the dark. Even after all these years, that kind of pitch black terrifies me. Every so often, I'll have a nightmare of his voice in my ears, his breath on my cheek, and I'll wake and have to fumble for the light, it's too dark, too dark. I won't sleep again on those nights until after dawn, for as long as it's dark I have to sit, huddled and shivering, on my bed in the well-lit room, fighting to breathe normally and remembering that he's not there. He can't hurt me anymore, I'm stronger than he is. Body and soul.

There's a room at the main house that I still can't bring myself to walk past without shuddering, though I hear it's been empty for a while now. No one's set foot in it since the last time he locked me there, cold and alone.

It was a tiny room, with no windows, and there wasn't a single source of light in the place. When he pulled the thick door shut after him, I could've sworn it was midnight, no matter the time of day outside. Midnight is a cold and lonely hour to be locked in.

I would curl up in the farthest corner from the door, and when he saw me there, he'd laugh and call me a filthy little rat. His filthy little rat. Always his, even when he was hurting me. He was possessive that way, of all of us.

If I fell asleep, I'd wake to a harsh kick in the ribs and a cruel laugh, maybe a whip if he was feeling particularly nasty. It wasn't a very nice way to wake up, and from the moment I regained consciousness I had to be on guard with him; there was none of that sleepy transition period I would grow so fond of later in life.

"Foolish Yuki," He'd say, "You are not worthy of sleep. You are a thing, my thing, and I will say when you can sleep."

And I believed every word of his lies. I couldn't sleep; I wasn't good enough for sleep, so I kept myself awake until I could no longer see for weariness. Then I'd pass out and wake to pain and start the cycle of fear and sleeplessness all over again. If I transformed and then slept, the next thing I knew, there'd be a stinging sensation on my bare back, and then hot sticky blood was pouring down my skin.

I became a major insomniac, unable to sleep even outside my "special room" until I either collapsed or transformed from the weakness. Hatori tried giving me sleeping pills, but I wouldn't take them. I thought that Akito would be mad at me, and the thought was so unbearable that I'd start to cry and not be able to breathe.

When I cried, he'd sometimes take me in his arms, and whisper comfortingly in my ear. It was like having a parent, a real parent who really cared about me, and those were the times where I didn't fear him at all. There grew to be fewer and fewer of those as I got older and less open, less trusting, less loving of everything and everyone who hadn't earned my love and trust, and Akito didn't make the list. I stopped crying where he could see, and he stopped holding me, except when he wanted to make a veiled threat. I began to have nothing but fear and horror where he was concerned. Thinking of him no longer held hope and love; it only brought me pain.

Once, he left me in the room for an entire day and a night. I thought he'd forgotten about me, that he didn't care enough to come get me out, and maybe that was the worst thing of all. I cried myself to sleep that time, and when I woke to the cat o' nine tails across the tender flesh of my belly, I was almost glad to see him, despite the long hours of torture and agony he brought with him. But by then, the damage was done.

"Foul rodent," He'd hissed. "You've soiled yourself, like a dirty little animal. And that's just what you are." Another flick of his wrist, a crack of the whip in his hand, and a trickle of blood appeared on my left thigh. "You will never be loved by anyone, Yuki. You shouldn't even be alive. You were a mistake."

I didn't get out of bed for three days after that. Part of it was the physical injuries left by the whips, and the weakness from going without food for nearly two days. But most of it was in my head. I didn't matter. Nobody cared about me. I was just a dirty animal. I hated myself. I ate little bits of what they brought me, but I tasted only the tang of my own fear and despair. I didn't speak for three months.

Akito was angry over my silence, but he didn't understand. None of them did. It hurt too much to speak. I couldn't say a word. It wasn't that I didn't want to, it was that I couldn't. He hit me, whipped me, twisted my arms behind my back, hurled anything heavy, screamed and even shed tears, but none of it got me to talk. If anything, it drove me deeper into silence. I hated myself more than ever when he was mad at me. I was mad at myself, and when he was mad at me, too, I felt like I couldn't bear it. I wasn't saying anything, but what I was really saying was a long, tortured scream. It stretched for eternity.

When people spoke to me, I would bow my head and avoid their eyes, and if they demanded that I speak, I would curl up into myself. I tucked my knees to my chest and huddled there until they left me alone. I shut the entire world out.

It was Haru who finally got me to talk. He never knew it, but I've always thought that it was his quiet persistence, his open forgiveness of everything, that helped me find a place within myself where I could be happy, where my voice could be heard. I found my voice again. I learned to talk around the self-hatred now deep inside me.

I had a lot of attacks in that room. I was severely afraid of the dark. I loathed the quiet and the loneliness and I would choke on my own tears. I even wanted him to come back, even if it meant he would hit me some more, because with Akito came the light and I didn't want to be cold and alone in the dark anymore. Scared I would always be, but at least when he was there I could see. I was so frightened of that place, that little hole of nothingness where he'd store me when he grew tired of my company, or just when he wanted to see me suffer, that I'd sob until I couldn't catch my breath. I'd cough and wheeze and try to lie to myself, to tell myself that there was nothing to be afraid of, but that made it even worse.

I remember when my visits to the room stopped. It all started with a spilt bowl of soup.

I was supposed to bring the soup to him, nothing more, but his room was shadowy and I couldn't see him. I called out to him, softly. Tendrils of fear were beginning to stir inside my belly. I didn't like the dark, not at all. I was ten years old.

"Yuki." He said my name loudly, right next to my ear. I hadn't known he was there before that moment, and it startled me. The bowl fell to the ground and shattered in china shards, hot soup splattering all down my legs and soaking the carpet.

The first uncontrollable tears began to gather in my eyes then, as I turned to him to whisper that I was sorry, oh I was so sorry, and I'd get him another bowl of soup and clean up the mess right away.

But he didn't want the soup; he wanted me to cry. He pinched my right ear and twisted, twisted, and I cried out a strangled yelp of agony. "Yuki." He hissed into my other ear as the trails of wetness forged their way down my cheeks. "I think you need to be taught a lesson." I knew I was in trouble then, because that was what he always said before he put me there, in that room that I couldn't stand.

He dragged me, pinching me all over with sharp little fingers, down to that place. He threw me in and screamed after me "Don't you dare move, Yuki, I'll be back for you later. If you sleep, you will be punished. You're not good enough for rest. You deserve to be punished. You are a squalid monster, a foul mark upon the family name."

"I de-deserve to be p-punished." I whispered weakly to myself. He smiled, satisfied, and left the room. I crawled into the far corner and curled up into my tiny protective ball against the wall.

The places where the hot soup had scalded me stung, and so did the smoky tears in my eyes. My breathing was choked and ragged, faster and more irregular than it should have been. It prickled in my chest as the tears fell in scorching paths down my neck. Within minutes, my lungs burned with a need for oxygen, my limbs ached as I gasped for air and found none.

I retched and gagged and lost everything I'd eaten, in my fear and breathlessness. I choked on the bile that had risen to the back of my throat and the bad taste just made me heave for breath even harder. My head hurt and I was scared, so scared, and I couldn't breathe and it was so dark and why wasn't anyone here and oh God I couldn't breathe.

I was like that when Hatori found me, clutching my chest and letting out little whimpers of pain as my breath came harder and harder.

He knelt beside my prone form and I felt a little pinch as the needle entered my flesh, but it was nothing compared to the constriction in my chest and the lingering pain in my ear. He scooped me up in his arms- I was ten and should've been too heavy to carry, but I'd always been small for my age, and Hatori was very strong. He had to be, to have as much interaction with Akito as he did.

"Oh, Yuki." He whispered into my hair as he carried me down the hall to my room. "What has he done to you?"

After my breathing had slowed and I'd calmed down, I drifted off into a light and fitful doze, perhaps helped along by a sedative Hatori had given me. I'd developed a way to sleep lightly enough to still be aware of my surroundings in my years as Akito's personal pet. That way, when I slept- which was rare in and of itself- I could wake easily without having to be prodded first. Or kicked, if he wasn't too sick to bother. It was a skill I lost after I moved to Shigure's house, where I slept wonderfully and deeply, and lost all but the last lingering traces of the fear I'd once had of slumber. I would sleep late into the morning, and even after I woke, I wouldn't be truly awake until noon. Shigure once laughingly suggested that I was making up for lost time.

In any case, I woke when Akito entered my room. I was still far too weak to move, but my wits were immediately sharp and I was aware, if slightly fuzzy, of everything going on in the room. I continued to feign sleep while he looked at me.

"How is my rat?" He asked, and I could tell he was leaning on the doorframe, blocking light from view. I concentrated on breathing normally, like I was still asleep, like I hadn't heard his voice and it hadn't had such an impact on me.

Hatori removed his glasses and looked up from the paperwork he'd been shuffling on the desk. I heard the end of the rustling of the papers and the click as he removed the spectacles. "Hello, Akito-san." He greeted.

Akito moved closer to me, and I felt the heat he radiated as he stretched a hand toward me to stroke my hair. "Hatori-san, how is my darling Yuki?" He asked again, fingers brushing against the clammy skin of my neck as he clenched a strand of my hair in his fist. I controlled myself not to flinch away from those hot extremities. His skin was just like his love, it burned.

I heard footsteps as Hatori came closer to my bed and Akito, replaced the compress on my forehead, took Akito's hand away. "He'll be all right, now." He answered, taking my pulse. Hatori didn't lie. He'd seen too much of the world. He'd never once told me that everything would be all right, because it wouldn't, and he knew that. I never really thanked him for that, but I admired him for it later.

"It was a bad attack." He continued, and I peeked from beneath my lashes to see him put a soft hand on Akito's shoulder. "We're lucky I found him when I did. He could've died."

"Poor Yuki. So weak." Akito seemed to realize the irony of his softly spoken words; he smiled wryly. I tried to steady the shiver running down my spine.

"You'll kill him, Akito." Hatori said calmly, regarding him evenly. "You'll kill him if you put him in that room again. He won't last much more of this."

The smaller man sighed, and I felt the weight of his eyes on my face. "Sweet Yuki. Sweet, fragile Yuki. I've been hard on you." Again, I fought to remain in control of my breathing. I peeked back out to see him bow his head, dark hair brushing against his cheeks. "What must I do?" He mumbled to Hatori. "What must I do for him to recover?"

Hatori stared at him with those lovely piercing eyes, those golden eyes. Akito ruined one of them later, and I cried when I heard. Hatori had always had such beautiful golden eyes. Many times in my childhood, I'd woken to find those eyes above me, signaling peace and a temporary respite from struggle. "You won't like it." He said.

"I don't care." Akito replied. "I give you permission to be honest with me, this one time."

"Well, I'd suggest he stay as far from you as possible, but you won't allow that, will you?" Not waiting for a response, he continued right away. "He'll have to stay out of that place, that torture chamber-" I winced at the words, hoping neither of them saw. It was the first time I'd heard it described so aptly. "-and it'd be best if he rested more, and received fewer kicks." The bitter tone was evidence that he had been on the receiving end of a few blows from Akito.

I felt rather than heard the slap, recoiling as though it were my own face that had faced the biting sting of Akito's palm. My eyes flew open, my lungs out of control. I was hyperventilating, my heart beating wildly against my ribcage. The pain in my chest was unbearable. I curled up around it, needing to tuck in and make myself smaller.

They turned to look at me, Akito's hand still raised as if to strike again, a pink bloom already forming on Hatori's cheek.

Hatori stepped between Akito and me, so I couldn't see him. He bent over me, tended me until I was half-asleep with exhaustion. He gave a sorrowful half smile at my tiny form, curled on the bed, and I could see that the next day he'd have an angry hand-shaped welt where he'd been slapped. He turned back to Akito and said, "He's sleeping now. Poor thing. Exhausted. It's been a hard day for him." He didn't say whether he meant my attack or Akito's punishment or both, but maybe he didn't have to.

They thought I was asleep, and I almost was. But I could hear them talking.

"He's… terrified of me." Akito said finally, turning away. "He couldn't breathe because I was in the room."

"The sound of the slap scared him. He probably thought he was back in there. His defenses are down, it was easy for the fear to control him like that."

"Fear of me." Akito said, plopping down on Hatori's chair with a harsh squeak. "I'm… a monster." He covered his face with his hands.

We stayed there like that for several minutes, Akito sitting in the chair with his hands over his face, me pretending to be asleep on the bed, Hatori hovering, torn, between us.

Finally, Akito broke the silence. "He'll be well soon enough." He straightened up and came over to my bed. He showed no signs of the man he had been only moments before, broken, defeated. He leaned down and kissed me softly on the cheek. "Sleep well, my Yuki."

If Hatori saw, he didn't say anything. Akito left.

Not long afterward, I was invited to live with Shigure. It was all arranged quickly.

Akito acted angry over it. He put up a brave front, but I knew the truth. I knew him too well.

"Yuki, do you think you can get love outside this house?" He asked, tilting my face toward him with one of those hands, those scorching hot hands. "You think that someone outside our world could love a strange rat freak like you? Don't count on it.

"You'll come back to me, Yuki." He said, tracing a finger down my cheek. "You'll come back to my house. They always do. You don't exist without me." His hand tightened uncomfortably on my chin. "You're nothing without me." There was pain there, in his eyes, and it flowed into me through that one hand at my throat. "Never forget that."

He released me, and I collapsed, gasping, to the floor.

Before I left his house forever, he whispered a "We'll meet again, my prince." Into my ear.

I found it ironic how, in a few years, when I'd outgrown that skinny underfed look, the girls at school began to call me that. Prince Yuki. It always reminded me of him, of that last day.

I loved him, and I hated him. He was the bane of my existence, and my reason for being. He was my everything, until I left that hell and found something else to live.

There were times when I thought he loved me, although those sweet moments were few and far between. I remember once- I must've been four or five- he'd called out to me from his bed when he had a fever, and I'd climbed up into bed with him, only hesitating a moment. He'd wrapped his arms around me and hugged me close. He promised to never let me go, that I'd always be his. At the time, I'd just snuggled close in his embrace and let the warmth of his love flow over me, feeling content and lucky in my five-year-old world. In those times, I didn't think about the dark lonely room or the whips hanging in the closet. I just thought of his comforting arms around me.

I thought it was love, what he did and said. I thought that was how love worked. When he hit me, I thought that I deserved it, because he told me I did. He was the only person who ever made me feel like I mattered, and I let him do what he wanted in the hope that he'd call me his sweet boy again. He always did, afterward. And those fleeting moments made it worth it, almost. I thought it was love, and that was why I guarded myself against love for so long.

It wasn't until many years later, when I met Honda-san, that I learned that love didn't have to be like that. That what Akito had given me wasn't love at all, it was only pain. Love could be sweet and good and wonderful. It could keep you awake at night just as much as fear could. It was a gentle kind of elation, a safe but fragile happiness. I trusted her completely, and I knew she did the same for me. For the first time, I knew that I could trust that someone I loved wouldn't turn on me, wouldn't proclaim their love to me one minute and call me a dirty thing the next.

Don't misunderstand, I never meant to love her. But it ended up that way, and I wouldn't change it for anything. There's something about her that breaks through all your carefully built defenses, warms your cautious heart until it can't help but melt to her. That feeling hit me so hard at first that I wanted to rip out that melting heart and hand it to her, wrapped in a gift bow. "Take me," I wanted to say, "I'm yours, always and forever."

But Tohru didn't want my heart on a platter, she wanted all of me. And that was why I loved her so much.


End file.
